Stirrings
by writergurl88
Summary: Susan and Caspian explore emerging feelings in the wake of Narnia's victory. When a new adventure follows on the heels of his coronation, they both have some tough decisions to make. Movieverse, possibly AU, Caspian/Susan.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own C.S. Lewis' _The Chronicles of Narnia_ or the film adaptations by Disney. I am just a poor college student with no money.

Susan could not sleep. She tossed about on her pallet, attempting in vain to find a comfortable position, but then resignedly opened her eyes. Above her the roof of her and Lucy's tent glowed a faint blue, the trees above casting deep indigo shadows onto the smooth canvas. She breathed in and out slowly, mind turning over the events of the previous day.

Her bruises and scrapes became painfully apparent as she recalled the long battle for the throne of Narnia--her right arm ached from its near constant tension on her bowstring--her wonder at seeing Aslan after giving up hope of his return, the euphoria of victory, the jubilant feast afterwards.

Ah, the feast, that must have been what kept her awake--too much wine and too many sweetmeats. She, her siblings, and Caspian had dined at a high table erected hastily in the shadow of Aslan's How, but had not remained upon it long. They, with Aslan, had strolled among the victors, toasting individual triumphs, consoling those who had lost loved ones, and dancing ancient Narnian dances around a roaring fire that was constantly being fed with the shattered trebuchets and wagons of the defeated Telmarine army. To the Pevensies, these rituals conjured memories of their days as the Kings and Queens of Narnia, when the halls of Cair Paravel were lit from dusk to dawn, good food and wine flowed in abundance, and their cherished friends made raucous music on all kinds of strange and beautiful instruments.

Susan had collapsed a bit tipsily beneath a tree at the edge of the celebration to catch her breath (but even the trees murmured amongst themselves, their boughs shivering with an uncontainable joy at their freedom from centuries of sleep) and had been there a full ten minutes before she realized she was not alone. Even further away from the firelight a stone-still Caspian faced the dancing without seeming to be actually watching it. His gaze was cast inward, a brooding expression carved across his features. He was not aware of Susan's presence until she cleared her throat. Caspian blinked and shifted his eyes to her reclined figure.

"I did not realize you were here, Your Highness." He said unnecessarily.

Susan considered him before replying. Nearly all of her words to the Telmarine prince had been of war strategy, planning--_useful_ conversation. What else could she say to him now that all the advice she and her siblings had to offer had been given?

"You are thinking of what Aslan has told you."

Caspian inclined his head. "How could you know?"

"When Aslan speaks, one could spend an entire lifetime pondering his words."

"When his eyes were upon me, I felt as I had never felt before--shamed into a smallness and wretchedness in comparison to him."

Susan watched Caspian battle inwardly with himself for a moment, then beckoned him to sit nearer. The prince padded slowly across the grass and then sat stiffly down; she still intimidated him somewhat, this legendary young woman who had leapt from the pages of his professor's history books into living flesh.

"I always envied Lucy for how easily she put her faith in what she cannot see, what is illogical by all reason." Susan watched across the fire as Lucy bent to speak to Reepicheep, her cheeks flushed with excitement from the revelry and genuine delight in conversing with the amusingly gallant mouse.

"Queen Lucy is much like my Professor Cornelius, then. Aslan was a story to me, nothing more, until I saw him with my eyes and felt the terror at his roar." Caspian said slowly as his eyes fell upon the great lion.

As Susan recalled the memory of her conversation with Caspian she understood why slumber had not touched her. What would dawn bring? She and her brothers and sister had fulfilled their duty to Narnia. She doubted that Aslan would have them reinstated as the monarchs of the land--had not they returned merely to ensure Caspian brought renewed prosperity? And even when they ruled Narnia well into adulthood, had not Aslan returned them to their own world not even a minute older then when they had first left it through the wardrobe? Clearly he meant for them to live full lives in England.

Yet Susan could not shake another feeling growing deep within her, one she had yet to identify. Her life in England was far from satisfactory, with war all around and pessimism gripping the country. Oft times she had wondered at the point in continuing her education, when at any moment a bomb could put to ruins elven years of schoolmarms' strict lessons. Susan remembered with relish her years as a queen--the horseback rides through wild countryside, fierce yet honorable battles, tournaments, feasts, dancing, the suits from handsome kings…

Susan shook her head at her own musings. No, Aslan would surely return them to their own world in good time. She closed her eyes and tried to sleep.

The next day Caspian, the Pevensies, and the triumphant army entered the Telmarine city in full court dress, riding beautiful horses through a shower of flower petals. Behind Caspian Susan and Peter rode abreast through the cobbled streets, bestowing gracious smiles to the awestruck Telmarines. As they crossed the bridge into the castle Peter leaned over and murmured in Susan's ear.

"What did you and Caspian speak of last night?"

Susan blushed, but did realize that Peter asked out of genuine interest, not brotherly teasing.

"What else but a queen's advice to a new king?"

"I suspect King Caspian will be up to his neck in advice for a while. You should have spared him, Suz." Peter grinned--now he was teasing.

"Well, I suspect he is fully wearied of _yours_."

Susan guessed she had touched a nerve, from Peter's expression.

"It all turned right in the end, though, didn't it?" He said, a bit defensive, and pulled his horse forward a few steps and out of speaking range. Susan regretted her words and kneed her mount to match Peter's pace.

"Oh, Peter, I'm sorry."

"It's all right Suz, we all learned something different this time." Peter said quietly, but they completed the rest of the parade in silence.

There was another feast that night in the castle. Caspian provided female courtiers to attend Lucy and Susan, who found Telmarine royal robes to be slightly different than those of Narnia's golden age. The pretty, dark-haired, olive-skinned ladies assisted the girls with the pins and tassels of their gowns, and then wound up Lucy and Susan's hair into elegant coifs.

This feast in the Telmarine castle consisted of considerably less revelry and much more groveling, Susan thought, as yet another vassal came forward and proclaimed his life in service to the new monarch. Caspian seemed visibly uncomfortable as well; these men only a day before had been in charge of the legions of Telmarines that had killed so many of their friends. Caspian accepted their fealty with grace, but Susan sensed, almost as heat, the indignation emanating from the dark-featured young man seated between her and Peter.

At the conclusion of the banquet the Pevensies and Caspian retired to the newly crowned King's private chambers for wine and conversation free from the eyes and ears of the court. Professor Cornelius also joined them, a rich velvet cap on his head signifying him as Caspian's most honored high advisor.

"Those traitors think they can win me with honeyed tongues, that I will forget so easily their behavior under my uncle's rule!" Caspian stormed as he paced before the hearth, crown held in a white-knuckled hand.

Cornelius sat calmly with his fingers folded over his round belly, clearly used to his young charge's occasional outbursts.

"His Majesty _will_ forgive them. And trust them."

"How can I trust them? When every man there has ever looked to further his own interests?"

"When you make _your_ interests _theirs_."

"He's right, Caspian." Peter added.

"And you're bending your crown, the one so carefully wrought by your friends the dwarves." Susan said, indicating Caspian's vise-like grip on the golden circlet.

Caspian looked down at his hand and then up at Susan, who drew in a sharp breath. While his anger was quickly subsiding, the glance he had thrown her way was still hot with his rage, and--something else.

Susan felt her cheeks begin to flush and scolded herself. That thought was ridiculous.

The moment between them seemed to go unnoticed by the others in the room, for Cornelius continued on calmly, "Yes, put it away Your Majesty." He cleared his throat. "Tomorrow you will visit the armory and stables and treasury to ensure Your Majesty's inheritance due as King was not spirited away during your uncle's rule…"

Caspian collapsed onto a stool by the hearth and nodded distractedly at his advisor's instructions, resigned to put away his righteous indignation for the time being. After all, just remembering the joy of the past few days was enough to fill him with contentment. He had discovered that the creatures from the tales of his childhood were warm, breathing beings willing to fight and die for his cause. The very champions of old had come at his call to win him his throne. Aslan, the great lion who defeated Winter and Death itself had stirred the hairs on his head with his powerful breath. He had beheld incredible wonders, faced trials, and emerged a hero.

"Your Majesties, I think it is time we retire." Cornelius' voice broke the young king's thoughts. "We are all weary from today's events and poor Caspian has had much with which to come to grips." Cornelius rose, as did the rest of the party out of respect. He bowed to each of them and took his leave. Peter nodded towards Caspian as he and Edmund exited towards their sumptuous chambers just down the corridor from Caspian's; Lucy bobbed a curtsey and smiled warmly; Susan merely considered Caspian from beneath long lashes. She was the last to leave. Caspian watched her go, a peculiar expression written across his face.

The moon rode full in the Narnian sky, sending strong beams through the Telmarine castle's large mullioned windows. A lone figure roamed its hallways, sleep still eluding her.

Susan informed a sleepy Lucy that she needed some fresh air before bed, and had been wandering the meandering passages for half an hour. It was not the marble palace that had been Cair Paravel, but the Telmarine fortress revealed a strange elegance alongside the austerity of its construction. The windows were tall and proud with occasional fine examples of stained glass; the flagstones on the floor were laid in intricate diamond patterns, and the heavy carved wooden furniture exposed the Telmarines as a majestic people with humble beginning to a triumphant rise to power, and a strange affinity for seabird's wings, despite the castle being located several leagues from the ocean.

Susan rounded one corner and halted, transfixed. She had come upon a gallery of sorts; along one long wall ran a series of tall windows that let in broad beams of moonlight; in front of them, twenty or so crowned marble effigies cast black shadows onto the stone floor. A fine veil of dust hung illuminated in the beams of light that still could not reach a high vaulted ceiling.

She walked quietly before the first statue and looked into what had to be the first Telmarine king's face. She could not read the name etched into the marble of his pedestal, but imagined this king to be the first Caspian; certainly not all of the kings had been Caspians, since out of the twenty sovereigns the Caspian she knew was only the tenth, but Susan felt for certain that this man, with his strong brow and determined chin, had been a Caspian.

Susan walked slowly from statue to statue in reverence. Peter had called the Telmarines in so many words barbarian invaders, and while a few of the faces were unquestionably cruel, these kings were clearly admired and venerated by their people. She recalled trips to the Tower of London with her schools--the artists that had painted her country's monarchs' portraits had done so with the same care and attention to detail as had these sculptors.

As Susan approached the last statue, she found herself to be, once again, not alone. Before his father's effigy stood Caspian X. Directly mirroring his father's profile, Susan was struck by how Caspian appeared almost a statue himself: there was the strong brow, the focused gaze, the protruding cheekbones. The dusty moonlight washing over his face made it seem carved out of marble as well. Then he blinked and turned his head in Susan's direction.

The two shared a long look, Caspian's expression barely changing. Susan was suddenly aware how loud her breath sounded in the vast hall.

"How have you come to find this place?" Caspian asked, breaking the silence at last.

Susan drew a long breath. "I could not sleep. I just found this place by accident." She suddenly felt as if she had invaded something very private. "I'm sorry." She turned to go, but Caspian reached out and caught her hand.

"Do not be sorry." He let out a small grin. "Besides, these old men have not seen a pretty woman for hundreds of years."

Susan felt her cheeks redden, and was glad Caspian could not see for the dim light.

"Why could you not sleep, Your Highness? Is the chamber not to your liking?"

"Please, call me Susan."

Caspian blinked, then inquired again, voice soft.

"Why is sleep eluding you, Susan?"

Susan took a step away, pulling her hand from Caspian's. The feel of his rough fingers was too distracting. She looked up into the pitch-black expanse of the ceiling and bit her lower lip. No, she could not tell him the real reason.

"I was thinking of old Narnia, when I was Queen."

"What was your Narnia like? I have only been told the stories and seen the pictures in books."

A dreamy expression came over her face. "Oh, _wonderful_. The mermaids would swim below the parapets of Cair Paravel and serenade the great state banquets. Peter, Edmund, Lucy, and I had a great fleet of ships and would sail as far as the Lone Islands in search of adventure. Oh, and there were suitors, when I got older."

"Suitors?" Caspian asked with mild interest, but Susan thought she heard something else (dare she think jealousy?) beneath his voice.

"Oh, yes," she returned her gaze to his with a smirk, "but none of them handsome enough to encourage especial interest."

"How unfortunate for them."

"Unfortunate, indeed."

They exchanged a playful laugh before lapsing into silence, watching the moon climb higher through the arched windows.

"Susan, I wish to show you something." Caspian said at last.

"What is it?"

"You must come with me and see." He offered her his hand. Susan looked at it for a second, and then allowed him to grasp hers firmly, leading her through a narrow door and into a small passageway. Susan thought with some amusement what her mother might think of her roving through the night with a young man unchaperoned. The passage tapered, and then a steep set of stairs loomed out of the darkness. A few sparse torches lit their steps as Caspian led her around and around up a tower that seemed never to end. Her calves and thighs were beginning to burn as he slowed his pace. Susan looked up and saw that they had reached a narrow landing. Caspian fumbled with a set of keys and then opened a heavy wooden door.

Susan stepped out moonlight so strong she had to blink. Caspian led her to the edge of the balcony, and as she peered over its crenellated edge, she saw that they stood atop the highest tower. Caspian stepped from her side and unlocked a wooden chest near the door. She could not see what he extracted from its depths until he turned around, cradling a beautiful bronze telescope.

"Oh!" She gasped as he began to assemble the instrument on a sturdy wooden tripod.

Caspian grinned with pride. "Professor Cornelius brought me here to study the heavens. Tonight is not a good night to see the stars, with the moon so bright, but I could not think when we would have another time."

Susan felt that irritating blush in her cheeks again--to think that Caspian had _planned_ this.

"Lucy would have loved for you to show her this. She--" Susan had to stop herself from saying that Lucy was a part of the astronomy club at her school. Caspian was not fully aware of how things worked in her world, and she did not feel like trying to explain it. Though, she imagined, Caspian would probably be thoroughly fascinated were she to do so.

"Lucy has a special love for astronomy."

"Would you like me to fetch her?" Caspian asked seriously.

"I think she is already sleeping."

"Another evening for Queen Lucy, then." Caspian said serenely, and adjusted the eyepiece on the telescope. "Professor Cornelius seems to have set it to accommodate his eyesight." He bent and peered through the lens until he deemed it ready, then stepped aside. "Your turn."

Susan stepped up to the telescope gingerly, bent, and squinted into the glass. She smiled to herself. The sky was one thing that definitely gave Narnia away--the stars were closer, brighter, and much denser here. Caspian had pointed the telescope towards the rising constellation that the old Narnians called Fledge, for its shape resembling the legendary flying horse Aslan had created on the First Day. The star that formed Fledge's eye was actually a bluish nebula, and peering through the telescope Susan could discern the twinkling blue cloud clearly.

"How lovely," Susan declared, rising.

"Professor Cornelius told me that it is Fledge's blue eye that leads sailors home towards Narnia when their adventures at sea are over."

Susan smiled. "He is correct."

Caspian leaned towards her and bent his head to the eyepiece. He stared through the telescope for a few moments, then rose and studied Susan's face with a strangely solemn expression.

"How long do you think Aslan will allow you to stay here--" he caught himself, "… in Narnia?"

Susan looked down at her feet. "That is for Aslan alone to know." As she traced a line in the stones with her toe Caspian's boots appeared in her line of vision. She looked up, and was startled to see an intense gaze directed at her from his dark eyes.

Caspian held her eyes for a long time; neither of them moved or scarce breathed. At last he blinked and stepped away. "Forgive me."

Susan slowly became aware of her senses, as if emerging from deep water or a powerful enchantment. She fought the urge to sit and instead grasped the edge of the parapet.

"Are you ill?" Caspian asked, concerned. He moved to step to her side but Susan shook her head. She still had her dignity.

"I think it is time I at last went to bed."

Caspian took a step back and nodded respectfully. "It is growing late."

Susan waited for him to put away the telescope, followed him back down the dark stair, through a corridor, past the hall of the statues, and a shortcut across a private courtyard until they reached the door to her and Lucy's chambers.

But before he would allow her to disappear and nurse her wounded pride in private, Caspian took her hand and raised it to his mouth. Susan shivered as he brushed warm lips against the sensitive skin of her hand. "Thank you for your company this evening, my lady," he lowered her hand, but still held it firmly in his grasp, "I hope to enjoy it again."

Susan nodded, then curtsied awkwardly. "Good night."

She waited until she could not hear his footsteps anymore before turning the handle and vanishing into her room. Lucy's light snores were welcome--they were familiar and comforting, unlike the confusing cocktail of sensations now rushing through Susan's mind.


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning the Pevensies shared a private breakfast with Caspian on his balcony overlooking the walled Telmarine town

A/N: Hey guys, thanks for all the positive feedback! I made one small correction--Cornelius should be referred to as a Doctor, being a professor he has his doctorate (besides this is his title in the book). Enjoy!

The next morning the Pevensies shared a private breakfast with Caspian on his balcony overlooking the walled Telmarine town. While the conversation was friendly and laughs plentiful, Peter could not help noticing the furtive looks between his eldest sister and the king whenever their eyes happened to meet. Once, Caspian even made a flirtatious comment Susan's way that caused his sister to drop her fork and bow her head as if flustered. As Peter glanced around at his siblings' faces, he seemed to be the only one to take notice of this exchange, so dismissed it and returned to his eggs, but thought he might take more notice of his sister's behavior in the future.

Caspian found little time to dwell on his nighttime rendezvous with Susan after breakfast. As he toured the castle's storehouses and treasury he found that Miraz had indeed relocated many royal assets. The falcons, his father's horses, the reserve weapons, the crown jewels, his mother's gowns, even! As he surveyed the open trunks in the treasury he let out a shout of frustration and rounded on the lord who had shown him around the grounds. "How could the court allow this?! Did Miraz weave a spell to cloud your eyes to this treachery? "

"My lord, he removed them all in the name of his son. He told the court he was insuring the young prince's inheritance, and we could not deny him on such grounds."

"Well, where is it all now?"

"Sire, only Miraz himself knew. He had the wagon bearers who carted it away be removed of their heads so they could not reveal its location."

At that evening's feast Caspian stood before the court and informed them of the missing treasures and of his intention to personally see it returned.

"We will take thirty men and my friends the kings and queens of Narnia to find what is rightfully ours," he declared, using the formal plural, "This injustice will not continue."

"But who will stay in His Majesty's place?" Some of the lords looked hopeful.

"Our advisor and professor Doctor Cornelius shall govern in our absence," Caspian spoke louder as the court erupted into murmurs, "As well as His Majesty the High King Peter," he glared at the courtiers, "to ensure there are no more usurpers." Caspian turned and nodded curtly to Peter, who stood and knelt before the Telmarine king. This was unnecessary, but Caspian's people were stanch for tradition.

"Do you, King Peter of Narnia, swear to uphold the laws of this country and the wishes of its sovereign, until the very hour he is returned to his place?"

"I do."

Caspian ceremoniously placed the flat of his sword on Peter's right shoulder. This signified his handing over of the security of the nation and reminded that he had the power to take off the heads of any who overstepped their place.

"Rise, King Peter of Narnia."

Peter got to his feet and stood beside Caspian with his hands folded behind his back.

Susan, who watched her brother and Caspian quietly from the high table, almost had to stifle a giggle at the display they had made. While the thievery of royal property was a serious matter, they nonetheless looked little more than puffed-up peacocks with their chests thrown out and chins high with dignity. Susan had always been the one to knock Peter down a few notches whenever he made a royal ass out of himself to foreign dignitaries. She waited until he and Caspian had sat back at the table before leaning over and whispering to Peter, "You know you had a soup stain all down the front of your tunic, right?"

Peter's face reddened as he tried to examine his shirt discreetly. Susan giggled and looked up. Caspian had heard her comment and suppressed a grin. As he held her gaze his expression changed, until his eyes had focused upon her with such intensity that she was forced to look away lest others notice.

As Peter dabbed at the stain he whispered in Susan's direction, "What is going on between you and Caspian?"

Susan looked down into her lap where her hands were folded before meeting Peter's eyes. "What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean. You're looking at him like you did at Georgie Brunswick last year."

"Peter! You are ridiculous. There is nothing."

"Nothing?" Peter glanced between Caspian and his sister. Susan was refolding her napkin into a tiny square and Caspian was watching her fingers with rapt attention.

"Nothing." Susan said quietly.

The next morning Susan and Lucy rose early. Shivering in the pre-dawn chill, they bathed, packed rucksacks, and joined the other sleepy individuals who were to be traveling with them in the castle's main courtyard. Edmund arrived still rubbing sleep out of his eyes, while Peter seemed to have drawn into himself. Susan felt a little sorry for him--while honored with the charge of safeguarding Caspian's hard-won kingdom, he was not one to stay behind when sure of adventure.

Around the four Pevensies the courtyard rang with the sounds of soldiers' boots, the stamping of hooves, the ring of blades being sharpened. The air smelled of soaped leather and anticipation.

"I had not thought to have another adventure so soon after the first one ended," Edmund said with a yawn. He, Caspian, and Peter had joined with Caspian's captain of the guard in a popular Telmarine card game and stayed up far past midnight drinking ale and losing vast sums of money.

"Hail, Your Majesties! And so Dawn arrives rosy-fingered." The Pevensies turned at the voice of Caspian's captain of the guard, Armin. Captain Armin was but a few years older than Peter, had a full beard of auburn hair, and an easy, booming laugh. His father had served Caspian's father loyally until the king's death, then was dismissed by Miraz. Caspian had instantly appointed Armin to the position, since his father had passed away before Caspian's victory and coronation.

"Hello, Captain." Peter grinned and saluted his new friend. Armin removed his helmet and nodded respectfully to the boys, then bowed deeply to Susan and Lucy, a twinkle in his blue eyes.

"King Peter, I assure you your brother and lovely sisters will come to no harm under my care."

"And I will have to fend for myself, I suppose?" Armin and the Pevensies turned their heads towards Caspian as he entered the courtyard. Armin dropped to a knee and saluted his liege.

"I fear you will, my king."

"Then perhaps I will have to find a new captain," Caspian said, eyes alight with mirth, "though I would find you extremely difficult to replace." He cleared his throat, suddenly all-business. "Rise, Captain Armin, and tell me of our arrangement."

Armin got to his feet and indicated the soldiers and supply carts that were gradually forming themselves into queues. "Fifteen mounts, ten on foot, an archer for each supply cart, myself, two lieutenants, and…" He counted on his fingers, then looked down at a tap on his boot.

"And twelve courageous mice, Captain!"

Armin grinned. "Quite right, Sir Reepicheep. Which brings the count to forty-five soldiers in total."

Caspian knelt to speak with the plumed mouse. "You would accompany me on a mere treasure recovery expedition my friend? I am sure there are adventures with far more danger worthy of you and your companions."

"Sire, I would not be so sure of safety! Our Narnia is yet a savage place." Reepicheep brandished his glinting little sword.

"Then our enemies have much to fear," said Caspian kindly. He stood and nodded to Armin, who gestured for the king's horse to be brought.

Peter stood on the battlements of the Telmarine castle as he watched his siblings, Caspian, and their retinue disappear into the trees. He fought within himself to suppress his resentment at being left behind, and was especially worried about the looks he had seen Caspian giving his sister.

Caspian rode at the head of the expedition with Armin and his first lieutenant flanking him. Susan sat quietly upon her palfrey behind the king, a small smile on her face as she listened to Reepicheep and Lucy chatting behind her. The mouse had opted to ride atop the youngest queen's saddle horn, and was anything but short of valiant (and most likely exaggerated) tales of adventure.

They rode in this formation for a few hours, passing through deeper and deeper woods. Caspian's Telmarine men had been brought up from the cradle to fear the forest, thus an air of uneasiness had arisen within the ranks. Beneath their helmets the soldier's eyes darted from tree to tree, suppressing the urge to jolt at every moving shadow. As Caspian glanced back towards the Pevensies, the comparison could not be starker. Susan, Lucy, and Edmund rode with an ease and comfort through the deep emerald shade as they exchanged words and quiet laughter between one another.

Caspian reigned his horse back to come abreast with Susan's. She acknowledged him with a brief sweep of the eyes, then continued to gaze into the forest.

"My Lady, you have grown quiet. Is my company so dull?" He attempted to draw a smile, but Susan was not so easy to be won.

"I was wondering where it is we are looking? This old path should take us north, to the mountains."

"It shall. Doctor Cornelius thought Miraz would have remembered the burial mounds where the Narnian kings of old were laid to rest. That land is naturally fortified by hills and rushing rivers."

"But there are hundreds of those mounds! And not all of them bear Narnian kings; some house ancient caches of weapons that were long ago plundered."

Caspian shrugged. "Doctor Cornelius believes Miraz would have left some indication as to the treasure's whereabouts so that he would not lose it himself."

"Still, I don't like the idea of us venturing into giant country with little proof that that's where your inheritance is." Susan was growing frustrated. Why did men never seem to think anything all the way through?

"I do not think we will have to fear a raid by giants." Caspian grinned confidently. "My great-grandfather beat them back from that area long ago."

"And what do you think they have been doing since then? Sitting idle in their caves? Building giant houses and domesticating non-talking animals instead of hunting for human flesh?"

"My lady, calm yourself! You worry about silly things, these old giants. Surely they would not attack a battalion of armed men?"

Susan's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Perhaps I am a silly girl worrying about silly things, then." And with that, she gave her mount a swift nudge and hurtled ahead of the party until out of sight.

"Sire! Should we follow the lady for her safety?" Armin called to Caspian, looking fearfully into the darkened grove of trees into which Susan had disappeared.

"No, Captain," said Caspian with a sigh, "the queen Susan will rejoin us when I have sufficiently suffered in her absence."

Armin smiled slightly before returning to vigilantly watching the forest. His young Majesty had much to learn about women.

It was growing dark when Caspian and his men at last reached a large enough clearing to hold them for the night. When they broke through the trees, a small campfire had already been built and two hares had been shot, skinned, and awaited the cook's stewpot. Susan was kneeling by the fire and was scrubbing her palfrey's gear to clean it of the day's sweat.

Caspian did not attempt to speak to her until after supper. While the tents were being unrolled and hastily erected, he sat beside to her on a felled log and watched while she fletched arrows. He had to admire the way she deftly selected the straightest branches and tied carefully cut feathers to the ends.

"I wish to apologize for my behavior towards you this afternoon, my lady." He said quietly, looking away from her and into the fire.

"Forgiven." She continued to fletch without speaking further.

"I also wanted to ask your opinion on where else we might look?"

Susan sighed and put down her tools, turning to look at him directly.

" I do think Doctor Cornelius is correct when he believed Miraz had thought of the old burial mounds. I trust him more than I would trust my rather dated knowledge of Narnia. But, Caspian," she spoke slower, giving her words weight, "you cannot assume we will go unnoticed. There are other dangers in those mountains I would not care to discover."

"What do you suggest we do, then?" Caspian had to fight his rising temper.

Susan folded her arms and glared. "You will not like my answer."

"Captain Armin, send the men and carts back. I will only be requiring your services for the remainder of the journey."

"But, my king, I would not dare venture into wild country with so few swords!"

"I have come to understand that bringing such an organized force will draw more unwanted attention than will a small company," said Caspian, shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot. The sun was rising over the trees and he was anxious to get moving. "I will take myself, Reepicheep because he insists, the king and queens, one mule to carry a few supplies, and you, Captain, if you will continue on with us."

"If we find where Miraz hid the royal treasure, how will we return it without the wagons?"

"The carts will travel with us until we reach the end of the woods. There they shall wait until King Edmund journeys back to inform them of the site."

Captain Armin struggled within himself for a moment, then sighed and saluted his king. "It shall be as you say, sire. Though I am most uneasy with this plan of action."

Breakfast was a quick affair and soon the seven remaining travelers were on their way through the ever-thinning trees. Susan and Caspian did not speak much to each other for much of the day, but by early evening seemed to be warming to each other, and by the time the party stopped for the night in the shelter of a steep hill, were even smiling despite their soreness from the long day in the saddle.

Armin noticed the tenderness with which Caspian helped Susan from her saddle and chuckled to himself. There was a brief moment in which their eyes met as Susan landed between Caspian and the horse; his hands were still on her waist and she still grasped his shoulders. There was a pause in which Caspian closed the small gap between them ever so slightly, but then Susan remembered herself and broke away to turn and tend to her mount.

Supper that night was quiet save for a few exuberant outbursts from Reepicheep, but soon sleep took hold and they rolled into their blankets.

Hours later, Caspian woke suddenly at a lonely call that drifted on the wind from the high plain. He looked around and saw that Susan was also awake, and poking at the glowing embers that remained of their fire. She had a quiet expression on her face, and seemed to be the only other one to have woken.

"What was that?" Caspian whispered to her as the call came again, but further away.

"It is a wolf calling to its pack." She looked up at him and blinked, wide-eyed.

"Should we fear him?"

Susan shook her head. "No… He is far, far away from us. These winds off the plain carry sounds for many leagues. But should we meet him or his friends in the future, I sincerely hope they are talking wolves." She pulled her blanket around her and gave an inadvertent shiver.

"You are cold. Come, share my blanket."

She sent him a disbelieving look.

"Do not worry, I will not allow us to fall asleep together. But it will do no one good if you fall ill, and two are always warmer than one."

Susan considered him for a few moments, then shivered, stepped over a storing Edmund, and joined Caspian's side stiffly. He wrapped his blanket around her, stood to add another branch to the fire, and then resigned himself to spend the rest of the night blanket-less.

They watched the branch catch fire and slowly burn, until Susan at last nodded off against Caspian's shoulder. The young king could feel his heart beating erratically as her soft breath whispered across his cheek. He wanted more than anything to let her continue sleeping against him, but the gentleman in him won out and he laid her gently on the ground before curling up a respectable six inches away, trying to ignore the sounds of the wolves howling on the wind.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry for taking so long to update

A/N: I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry for taking so long to update! Work has been really hectic and I just haven't had the energy to write. But I'm back! And so are our heroes!

The sun peeked over the hills in golden glory, tracing her long train over the sleeping faces of Caspian and his companions. They awoke stiff from the hard ground, but wide-eyed and alert from the sharpness of the air. After heating some gruel over a small fire they breakfasted and began preparing for another long day of travel. Lucy found a rip in her saddle and set about mending it while Reepicheep polished his blade, so Susan was left with the task of washing the plates and pot in the river, Caspian, Edmund, and Armin having already stripped their shirts and dashed, boisterously, to splash each other in the water.

Susan passed the three on her way down the hill and averted her eyes, not wanting to appear a voyeur, and settled on a rocky bank downstream where the water pooled in a small, pebbled basin. She rolled up the sleeves of her tunic and began to scrub the pot with handfuls of sand. There being only seven of them, she finished the washing quickly and laid it to dry on a warm, flat rock. As she gathered up the dishes to leave, she heard a low, rasping sound in the trees above the stream. She glanced up and was startled to find the glassy, bead-like eyes of a raven watching her. Having known a good many wise and revered ravens during her time as queen, Susan laid down her washing and nodded respectfully.

"Hello, Father Blackbird."

The raven continued to watch her without reply. Susan wandered if she had merely misidentified a dumb raven when it spoke,

"_The wind that blows is sharpest with spite."_

Susan furrowed her brow. Riddles were a favorite pastime of ravens, but this was unusual. Before she could inquire further, the raven spread his inky black wings and fled deep into the woods. Susan shook her head and gathered up her plates. Narnia's changes from when she had last known it were beginning to be disturbing.

When Susan returned from the stream she found the others had covered the fire with sand and were saddling their horses; Reepicheep trotted up to her, adjusting his feather, and bowed deeply.

"My queen, as I have told His Majesty, this morning I detected a strange scent on the air. It was not of beast or man, but something quite peculiar, something I have smelled only once in my life but cannot remember. I suggest we take extra caution in these wilds from here on."

Susan smiled at Reepicheep. "We are truly blessed by your nose, noble mouse."

Reepicheep saluted her. "A pleasure to assist in any way, my lady, though I wish I could identify--this scent is most worrisome."

As they traveled farther and farther north, the country grew wilder and more mysterious. They circumvented the plain on which they had camped and found themselves wandering through a dry gorge. As they entered a grove of birch trees that had once flanked the riverbed, Lucy turned to Susan with an air of almost reverence.

"It's like when Narnia was waking after the White Witch's winter," she breathed, "the trees have those soft buds and, if you listen," she held up a hand and the entire party halted, eyes wide. "They are whispering to each other."

Everyone listened as the pale green leaves rustled against each other, almost as if chatting under their breath. The breeze that wound itself through the treetops was nearly melodious, and, if it was not a trick of the late afternoon light, one could almost imagine the trees had taken the form of lanky, slender-faced maidens. They all held their breaths, transfixed, until the breeze died, they blinked, and it was just a grove of birches again.

"We should keep moving," Susan broke the silence and kneed her palfrey onward. Wordlessly, they passed through the birches and deeper into the gorge.

By the next day the gorge had given way to a shallow creek bordered by low, thick vegetation. In two days it was a river deep enough that they would have to ford it before it became impassable. Susan had an uneasy feeling about this river; like Reepicheep's fear of the indistinguishable smell, this river had an almost sinister nature. Though at the deepest portion of their crossing it was barely a meter deep, strange currents tugged at the horses hooves and rapids seemed to appear and disappear with no logical explanation. When they at last reached the opposite shore, Armin decided that it would be best not to drink from its waters.

Ahead of them they saw the lowlands gradually begin to give way to higher and higher plains, and far in the distance, perhaps a three-day ride away, was the faint silhouette of the sapphire mound, so named for the dark blue rock that had once paved its outer face. They stopped and made camp in the early evening amongst some rather strangely shaped boulders. Caspian and Lucy set to gathering firewood (Reepicheep was especially useful gathering dry twigs for kindling), while Armin and Edmund slung their bows over their shoulders and trudged off to find game. Susan had a knack for finding fresh water, so ventured out alone with the water skein to find a spring.

The stillness of this land frightened her. Around their small hollow bare hills swept up to craggy cliff sides where a thin green veil of plains grasses clung. It was wild, open country that few found enticing. When she and her siblings had been the rulers of Narnia, the old matrons would tell ghost stories late into the night, haunting accounts of the unwary wandering amongst the ancient burial sites in these lands, never to be seen again.

Of course, it was all nonsense, Susan thought as she inadvertently shivered. If she sensed anything sinister about this place it was most likely her overactive imagination. Susan rounded an especially large boulder and had to stop abruptly; as she debated with herself she had almost stumbled into a pool of water that appeared to be very deep. Susan took a few steps to each side as she examined her find.

The pool was almost perfectly round, ringed by dark blue stones not unlike those scattered throughout the area. Obviously it was fed by a spring deep down, for there was no other source of water flowing into it. Susan bent and cupped some of the water to her mouth and drank; the water was cool and fresh and slightly bubbly. Taking the water skein, she had begun to fill it when she heard a faint giggle.

"Lucy?" Susan called, looking around. No answer. She shrugged and continued to fill the skein.

"_Susan_"

Susan dropped the skein and surveyed her surroundings once more. "Who's there?" It was a female voice, no doubt, but was too airy and monotone to be Lucy's.

"_He is handsome, there is no question as to that,_" Another whispery, giggling voice said. Susan looked all around her--the rocks, the sky, the low trees a few meters away--nothing.

"_Oh, look at her. It is obvious._"

"_Like a filly in her first spring."_

Susan's heart began beating rapidly as the voices grow more audible. She felt a cool spray of water to her right and turned her head slowly. Kneeling next to her was a naiad. After recovering from her initial shock, Susan was not afraid. While she had been queen of Narnia naiads and dryads had occasionally served her as handmaidens when their seasons permitted it. The figure kneeling next to her had the same flowing silvery hair and a wide, doe-eyed face. Her skin was pale and amorphous--Susan knew if she touched the naiad's hand it would be as cool and moist as spring rain.

The naiad flashed her a mischievous grin. As Susan watched, two others like her wafted out of the skin of the water.

"_No doubt about it, Sisters,_" the naiad next to Susan said to the two in the water, "_She has the blush of first love in her heart."_

_"And such a prince! Oooh, if he were to come over here I'd--" _

_"Don't be silly. Just yesterday you were making eyes at that goatheard. Leave some fun for us!"_

The naiad sisters bickered amongst themselves until the one on the shore clapped her hands.

"_Enough of this. Susan," _She lowered her silvery voice and turned to the young woman, "_Look into the water."_

Susan hesitated, then slowly lowered her eyes to the surface of the pool. Some trick of the light had made it glassy and silvered, like a mirror. Susan stared--it almost seemed solid, as if she could walk upon it.

"_Susan, look into the water," _the other two naiads echoed.

By some will--hers or the water spirits'--Susan slowly leaned over the water until she saw her own face reflected back on its mirrored surface. But, something was strange about it. Susan's reflection seemed to be moving independently of her. While she watched, she saw herself wink and turn to walk down a long, well-lit passage of stone. Mirror-Susan stopped at a tall wooden door and turned the handle. As the door swung open the scene rapidly changed, and Susan was wearing a long flowing gown of light blue silk, and seemed to have aged a few years. The real Susan watched, transfixed, as Mirror-Susan was joined in a magnificent throne room by none other than an older, crowned Caspian. Susan looked up, confused.

The naiad smiled at Susan and indicated that she keep looking into the pool. Susan felt as if she had no choice; the naiad's smile was so persuasive and irresistible she couldn't help but to trust her. As Susan watched the scene, she saw Caspian and her mirror-self join hands. A ritual seemed to be underway--they stood before some sort of altar in the throne room of a great hall. Caspian reached for a twined silver circlet that had been resting on a cushion and placed it on Mirror-Susan's head. The two figures smiled at each other, then, to Susan's horror and delight, Caspian bent and placed a deep kiss on her mirror-self's mouth. Mirror-Susan then turned and stared straight into the real Susan's eyes with a kind of raw, enticing hunger. She raised a hand, beckoning.

Susan could not help herself: she let herself fall face-first into the water. She opened her eyes and found herself floating in an under-water palace, the round pool above being a sort of skylight to the upper world. Susan also found that, strangely, she could breathe. The naiads swam with an easy grace before her and smiled enchantingly.

_"Susan, I have seen your heart and I know its desires. All of them can be fulfilled."_

Susan's eyes widened incredulously. "You can do that?"

_"Oh yes,"_ the naiad's smile broadened, _"Indeed." _Her eyes twinkled impishly. _"You have selected a most handsome prince."_

Susan felt herself blush.

_"We can make everything you desire come true--you can have your prince and stay in Narnia with your brothers and sister as you wish,"_ She held out a hand, _"for a price."_

Susan's head swam with giddiness, she felt so docile, so trusting of those lovely smiling faces. "Oh, yes. Anything."

The first naiad's eyes narrowed. _"Give us your horn."_

Susan looked down at the carved ivory instrument at her waist. It had been a gift from Father Christmas, and, Aslan himself, surely not something to be given arbitrarily as a mere token or bauble of trade.

Susan looked back up at the naiads, dazed by enchantment but resolute. "No…. I cannot give you this."

The naiad looked at her apologetically, then--did her eyes flash red?--she and her sisters disappeared, as did the underwater palace. Susan found herself deep at the bottom of the pool, without air, and held down by a peculiar current. She struggled to kick her way to light and breath, but failed, and watched as her vision began to flicker and fade…

But suddenly, her face had broken into cold, blessed oxygen and she was being pulled onto the pebbled bank by the pool. She lay there with her eyes closed, coughing up water, until at last she was able to look up and view the face of her rescuer.

Caspian was kneeling over her, dark hair dripping onto her face. His eyes were rapidly scanning over her, filled with panic and fear.

"Susan, what were you thinking?" His voice was lower than usual as he spoke. "I was gathering wood over by those trees and saw you jump."

Susan did not answer him, but continued to stare into his eyes. Her body felt far away from her as she lay with pebbles pressed into her back and Caspian looking at her with so much concern and alarm. She opened her mouth to speak but coughed instead, her lungs still emptying themselves of water. Caspian slid an arm beneath her back to support her into a sitting position. Susan thought she could stay there with his arms around her for a long time before wanting to move. Caspian still appeared to be awaiting an answer for her foolhardiness, but she suddenly felt ashamed. How could she tell him she had jumped recklessly to fulfill her wish of--

No.

"I'm sorry, Caspian. I must have been bending too far over the water and slipped."

His eyebrows raised, disbelieving.

"You worried me."

"I'm sorry." She replied lamely, involuntarily shuddering with the cold.

He continued to gaze at her with a mixture of anger and relief. Caspian shook his head and gathered her in his arms, carefully stepping over stones and his discarded pile of firewood as he carried her back to the campsite. Susan felt her body respond to Caspian's warm hold--her blood began to pump through her chilled veins and she felt her breathing return to normal. She lifted a hand and placed it against his chest to steady herself as he labored with the rough footing. Beneath the cloth of his shirt she felt the strong beat of his heart. A short distance away from the campsite he set her on her feet. Susan found her strength to walk easily enough, but Caspian retained a firm grip on her arm until they reached the encampment.

Edmund and Armin were cleaning two pheasants they had shot, Reepicheep was cutting their fine feathers for arrows, and Lucy was feeding the small fire as they approached.

"Susan!" Lucy gasped as she looked up to see her sister approach, dripping cold water. "What--"

"It's nothing, Lu. I slipped and unfortunately there was some rather deep water to catch me."

Lucy's eyes shifted to Caspian questioningly. Susan pinched his arm where the others could not see.

"You 'slipped?'"

"Yes"

Lucy surveyed Susan's face for a moment.

"At any rate, you should change and let those clothes dry," Lucy said, "but I have none to spare. Did you bring any?"

Susan shook her head.

"I believe I packed a thick cloak and tunic for His Majesty in my pack," Armin called from the bar end of their bivouac, "They are some of his older clothes I thought might be useful. I would fetch them for you, Your Majesty, but--" he held up his hands covered in blood and feathers.

"I know where they are, Captain. Come, my lady." Caspian turned and, keeping a firm hand on Susan's arm, led her around a boulder towards the horses and their packs. After fetching the clothes from Armin's pack, he turned his back while Susan stripped off the sodden dress and leggings, leaving only her shift that was sure to dry quickly. She ran her hands over the tunic before dressing. The stitching was done in fine silk thread and, from the feel and weight of it, was of handcrafted linen. As she slipped it over her head, she smelled the wood of the chest it had been stored in, lye soap, and--something distinctly masculine--perhaps it was a mixture of sweat and the herbs the servants used to freshen the rushes--but it was a scent Susan could immediately identify as _Caspian_.

"What _really _caused you to jump into that pool, Susan?" Caspian asked without turning.

Susan paused as she was stepping into some warm, soft stockings. She remained silent, wrestling with herself.

"I suppose," She said slowly, "I was enchanted."

Caspian cleared his throat disbelievingly.

"No, really. I-I saw something in the water. A naiad lured me to jump after her, chasing what I saw."

Caspian wrinkled his brow. "That is not typical behavior of one of Aslan's chosen. Could it have been a hag, disguising herself?"

Susan shook her head as she shrugged into the cloak. "No. It was a naiad. But there was a dark magic in her that I have not felt from any of her kind before."

Caspian turned around and had to catch his breath. Seeing his tunic draped over her feminine curves was peculiar and incredibly attractive. He looked away to collect himself, then stepped to help her tie the cloak around her slim shoulders. Susan avoided his eyes as his fingers brushed the nape of her neck.

"There is a strangeness to this land. I think we would be wise to take caution, as Reepicheep said."

"Clearly," said Caspian. He stooped and gathered Susan's wet clothes in his hands. "Why do you suppose that is?"

"In our days in Narnia, these lands were little more than _terra incognito_, these burial mounds we are seeking being the far northern scrape of the map. Of course stories were rampant about sorcerers, giants, ghosts, hills that moved themselves, winds that could tell riddles…" A look of longing came to her face.

"Do you miss your days here as one of Narnia's queens?" Caspian asked quietly.

"Oh, I _suppose_. I think it's rather that I miss the people. Stories and traditions live on long after the friends that told them to you do. But I prefer to heed what is going on before my eyes."

"And what is that?"

Susan looked up from adjusting her stockings. Caspian had focused on her movements and now caught her eyes. A slight blush colored her cheeks as she replied, "I am not so sure at the moment." She straightened and took a deep breath.

"Tell me something."

"Yes?"

"What did your professor's stories say about me?"

Caspain raised his brows in surprise.

"They all said that Queen Susan the Gentle was the most beautiful of the Pevensies, and that her aim with a bow was to be feared."

Susan's eyes gleamed with something between disappointment and amusement. "Well, you can forget that nonsense, though the bit about the bow is certainly flattering and not a far miss, if you'll excuse the expression."

Caspian laughed, "Then how am I to know what to make of you, dear Queen?"

"You can start by calling me Susan."

He let the mirth fade from his face and said very seriously, "Yes, Susan."

"And you may ask which kind of horse I prefer over the rather insulting ladies' palfrey you have given me, why I never married any of the suitors from the old days, and which sort of book I like to read on war campaigns."

"Which shall I ask first?"

"The one I am most likely to answer truthfully."

Caspian drew a deep breath. "What sort of book would you most want to read while on a war campaign?"

"Nothing. I never went on a war campaign."

There was a brief pause, as Susan smiled to herself.

"What about the other two?"

"Considering the first, it's a bit silly to be asking _now_, don't you think? We are hundreds of miles away from your royal stables."

Caspian drew a breath, cheeks flushing with embarrassment. "And the second?"

"That," she said, eyes flashing, "you will have to coax out of me on another occasion."

The next few days passed without mishap. As the misty, distant hilltops of the burial mounds grew closer, the land grew wilder, giving way from gently rolling pasture to chilly, barren highlands. Occasional herds of wild goats could be seen and in the nights the howling of wolves was so common that no one got very much sleep. One evening Armin produced a mandolin and proved to be a fair minstrel, crooning love songs and ballads of war to distract from the whistling winds and far-off howls.

On a particularly chilly night the entire company sat huddled around the campfire in their wool blankets as Armin strummed a few tuning notes on the mandolin. The supper plates were stowed away and the horses had decided to graze near the fire for its warmth and security. Edmund was sharpening his hunting knife, Susan was mending a worn bridle, and Lucy was humming along with Armin's chord progressions. Caspian sat staring into the fire, at which Reepicheep was poking with a long, thin stick.

"Captain Armin, the _Ballad of the Battle at the Falls_!" Reepicheep requested with a particularly enthusiastic jab at an ember, "A night like this deserves a tale of mettle and daring!"

Armin eased a few notes out of the mandolin before replying, "But, Sir Mouse, we had _The War of the Fauns and Satyrs_ yester eve."

"How about _Averyll_ _the Archer_?" Edmund suggested

"Another tale of great deeds, but not one I'm as familiar with. That one is very old, Your Majesty." Armin replied with a lopsided grin. "What does our ever-silent King Caspian request this night?"

Caspian thought for a moment before answering, "_Edlen and Thane"_

Armin nodded approvingly. "Quite the romantic, our King is." He tuned the strings for a moment before playing a long, sorrowful chord.

_From far a-sea came Thane the Shipman's son_

_To wed Miss Edlen fair, _

_He, strong of heart, she, sweet of song,_

_They met when spring was young. _

The tale was a sad one; the lovers were cast out to sea by a treacherous and jealous sailor and lost forever. By the last verses both Lucy and Susan were sniffling, and Edmund and Caspian were trying very hard to appear unaffected, while Reepicheep squeaked indignantly, "You must have left out, good Captain, where Thane's best friend returned to slash the traitor through the heart."

Armin, despite the solemn mood at the conclusion of his song, had to chuckle. "If you were to write every ballad, Sir Reepicheep, I am sure every babe growing up on these songs at his mother's knee would have a very refined understanding of poetic justice."

"Indeed!" Reepicheep got to his little feet and brandished his rapier. "I say, Your Majesty, I am quite ready for a real foe!"

Caspian smiled. "Perhaps you shall meet one soon. Tomorrow we should arrive at the Sapphire Mound. If these old ghost stories turn out to be true, we will have need of your valor."

"Oh, don't" said Lucy, shivering, "Not while it's dark and spooky like this."

"I say, I quite agree with Reep," said Edmund, "I'm near sick of these bloody hills."

The next morning the skies were gray and heavy, and the air was wet with anticipation of a storm. By the time the party came upon the Sapphire Mound, a fine drizzle was soaking through their thick hooded cloaks, making the going perfectly miserable. Susan looked up through the mist as they approached the monument; enshrouded in the low clouds and misty rain, it looked as if they were approaching the wall of a great city. She shivered when she imagined cold, glinting eyes staring down at them.

Caspian led the party around the east side of the structure; their horses' hooves rang dully on the spongy ground and silence pressed close around them. Presently they halted before the faint outline of a yawning hole in the side of the hill. All besides Reepicheep stood before the entrance without speaking, even stilling their breaths that seemed too loud in the great white quiet around them.

But then the mouse leapt from Lucy's saddlebow and raised his needle-like rapier.

"Take heart, friends! The dark has nothing to fear but our light and our swords!" He turned and began to advance into the tunnel. They stared after him for a brief moment, then Armin, Edmund, and Caspian scrambled from their horses in haste to follow him. Lucy and Susan followed, still cautious. Edmund lit his electric torch and tagged behind Caspian. The darkness pressed upon them much heavier than had the foggy silence outside; it grew colder and damper as they wound through the narrow tunnel, Susan imagining all kinds of evil-tempered, many-legged horrors scurrying above her head and about her feet.

After what seemed hours the close sound of their labored breathing and footsteps seemed to all but disappear. They had entered into a cavern of sorts. Edmund shined his torch up and around them, revealing the glitter of stalactites and stalagmites, and the dark course of a shallow stream. There seemed to be arched holes cut into the walls of the cave, and as Edmund focused the beam of his torch on one of them, they saw that it was a human-carved archway with runes and pictograms etched around the lentils.

Without warning Reepicheep dashed into the dark archway. Caspian and Armin shouted stern orders for him to retreat immediately, but the mouse's squeaking voice could be heard excitedly from inside, "No fear! It is merely the final abode for good King Philip V."

Inside the archway was a narrow, low niche. On its floor, a stone effigy of the late king lay peacefully clutching a shield bearing a lion. The walls of his sepulcher were painted with scenes from his childhood, adulthood, and later life, all surrounded by beautiful motifs of dragons, lions, satyrs, and vines.

Each of the archways in the cavern held a similar scene; some of the effigies depicted lovely queens, tragically young princes and princesses, respected advisors, beloved friends. In one, a fluting faun reminded Lucy forcibly of Mr. Tumnus and she was forced to suppress a few sniffles. It was obvious after inspecting each grave that the Sapphire Mound housed the family mausoleum of Philip V's line. Despite the wonder everyone felt at peeking into Narnia's past, the more pressing matter of their mission began to weigh on their minds.

"Ah, here it is--the way to the next chamber," Reepicheep called from the far end of the cavern. The last archway housed a locked, but crumbling, wooden door instead of a grave.

"Armin?" Caspian turned to his burly captain.

"Of course, my liege," Armin said with a grin, and, taking the butt end of his sword, began hacking away at the rusted, ornate handle. After a few tense minutes, there was a satisfying _crack_ and the handle snapped completely off the door.

Caspian readied to push the door open, sword drawn.

"Courage, my king!" Reepicheep piped.

Caspian kicked open the door, and all where suddenly blinded by a wash of intense golden light.


	4. Chapter 4

"Do you think we're still inside the hill?" Lucy whispered as she craned her neck to gaze up one of the long, thin alabaster pillars that supported a ceiling obscured by shadows. Around them, a forest of such columns stretched to all sides to, what seemed, forever. The air was cool and exotically scented by incense-burning braziers dangling from the ceiling. Small, star-like candles broke the vast dimness around them, seeming to float freely amongst the pillars. The light that had initially blinded them emanated from another door, far away down an avenue of pillars, and cast long shadows behind them, like the sun at dawn.

"No, my queen," said Reepicheep in awe, his tiny claws scratching against the smooth marble floor, "In fact, I think we have left the realm of Narnia completely."

The boots of the travelers tapped noisily as they turned in circles, examining their surroundings.

"But where do you suppose we _are_?" said Caspian with a touch of irritation.

"Under the spell of some witch or enchantress?" Edmund suggested, remembering only too well the effect the White Witch's palace had had upon him when he had been imprisoned there.

"I sense no immediate threat here," Reepicheep said with a twitch of his whiskers, "though these braziers seem to have dulled my nose a bit." He scowled and laid a paw on the hilt of his rapier.

"Nonetheless, I don't like it," said Armin. "My Queen, I would feel better if you would stay out of those shadows and came closer to us," he barked in Susan's direction, for she had wandered away from the group.

Susan stood about ten meters away, out of the beam of light, her eyes and hands poring over the carvings she had discovered in one of the pillars. Intricate friezes wound their way up into oblivion, visually conveying the story of a noblewoman from birth to death, all the major stepping-stones of life separated by the seemingly mundane. At eye-level, the maiden was having her hair combed by a serving woman; in the next scene, she sat at a great banquet--the man on her left held her hand like a lover might. A few scenes up, Susan saw all the lady's servants at work sewing her trousseau.

Susan ignored Armin's request and shifted her eyes to the next pillar in wonder. This one seemed to be the life of a wheelwright; in one frieze he was at his workbench while five young children knelt in wood shavings, at play. As she roved the seemingly endless hall with her eyes, she felt her knees give slightly. How many lives were lovingly recorded here? Might she know some of them?

She started to make her way to another pillar when a warm hand was suddenly at her elbow. Susan glanced over her shoulder to see that Caspian had come to fetch her, eyes dark and solemn in the flickering candlelight.

"I feel as if I have stepped into a hall of dreams," Susan said quietly, her eyes alight and frightened.

"Perhaps we have," he said, low voice urgent, "But I wouldn't want to get lost in it. Come," he steered her back gently to the narrow band of golden light and the worried eyes of her siblings.

"Your Majesties, Captain," Reepicheep said when they were all reunited, "I believe the best course of action would be to pass through that door and see what lies beyond."

"I agree, Reep," said Edmund warily, "but, obviously, I'd hate to find something unfriendly behind it."

The diminutive soldier puffed his furry chest, "If there is, it will certainly be met by something equally as unfriendly!"

But as they debated amongst themselves, a shadow fell across the band of light and partially blocked it. A deep, smooth voice--like the resonant hum of a double bass--called to them, "Abandon fear, my friends, and step into the light." And just as quickly as it had appeared, the shadow vanished.

The silence after the voice was almost deafening. Around them the candles flickered like so many distant stars, and the story-pillars watched with ancient stone eyes. A tiny figure casting a long, thin shadow led five humans towards the door at the end of the hall. Upon reaching the doorway Reepicheep paused, then stepped through. The humans following him found themselves inside a much more familiar setting.

A wide, but certainly not cavernous, hall bore a long banquet table surrounded by high-backed chairs. A huge hearth with a dancing fire proved to be the source of the light, and over which was roasting what looking like a suckling pig. Tall, mullioned windows flanked the room, outside a deep gray fog pressed against the glass. Immediately at their left a narrow stone staircase wound up out of sight. The ceiling of the hall was domed, and was painted a midnight blue. Susan could just make out constellations illustrated in silver, shining faintly in the flickering firelight.

"What has brought you here, O searching ones?" the deep voice said from behind them. Susan turned with the others to view the strangest person she had ever seen.

It was a man, or looked enough like one, with smooth, copper-colored skin and long white hair. His face was clean-shaven, and wide and friendly, with a large forehead and narrow, twinkling, clear brown eyes--like looking into the eyes of a deer. He was clothed in flowing robes of unbleached linen, flashes of green, red, and black silk beneath it. He looked at each one of them in turn, and Susan drew a quick breath when his eyes fell upon her. In the brief instant when their eyes connected, she felt seared to her soul, all of her memories and hopes, darkest desires, most evil thoughts, spilled open to be seen.

"I have come seeking what was taken from me by the usurper Miraz, and my friends have come with me to see it returned," Caspian answered bravely, taking a small step towards the man.

"Let them speak for themselves, my son," the man chided softly, but did not press his question. "You will all learn in time why each of you have come." He inclined his head, "But, I believe you are all wondering most eagerly who _I_ am."

They waited, eyes unblinking.

The man spread his arms and lifted his chin, voice settling into the deep tones of a storyteller. He spoke:

"Long ago Aslan sang Narnia into existence, creating the talking beasts, dwarves, fauns, the tree spirits and water spirits, breathing life into them, to wake and sleep with the sun and the moon. He created the fields with soft waving grasses to feed them, deep rivers to drink from, wide waters for them to swim in. He placed the stars in the heavens to light their way in the dark, and made rains fall on the earth to replenish it.

"But, He made these things with impermanence, and they fell into the earth, and it folded over them, and used their bodies to make new life. Their souls were free, but had nothing to anchor them, for they could not enter into new bodies. Aslan brought their spirits to live in His country, across the sea and over the eastern edge of the world.

"However, the Great Lion did not wish for their lives, gifts from him, to go unrecorded. He entrusted me to keep His records here, in these halls below the earth, in a time and place apart from all others, and to serve Him until the world is ended. I am Abramelin, the caretaker of memories, story-teller, keeper of the world's sorrows."

His voice faded into the ceiling above, hanging in the air like perfume long after its wearer has passed.

It seemed no one dared to blink, to breathe. The air around them did indeed stir with something ancient and yet timeless. It moved in and out about them, as if the walls were inhaling and exhaling, alive. In the shadows that trembled from the firelight about them, they could see shapes in the corners of their eyes. Did a satyr stare at them with flashing eyes in that corner? Did the lithe form of a tree maiden slip around the trunk of a column?

"But why has Aslan brought us to you?" a small voice said after the long silence. All eyes turned to Lucy, the most unperturbed by their surroundings.

"Ah, my daughter, that," the story-keeper said, the corners of his eyes crinkling into a smile, "is a question I would have to answer differently for each of you." He shifted his gaze to the rest of them. "A more appropriate question might be: what has Aslan commanded _me_ to ask of you?" He drew a small breath, not waiting for any interjection.

"Aslan has asked me to show each of you one of the lives I have inscribed in the Hall of Memories. You may share what you see with one another if you chose, however, it is perfectly understandable if you decide to say nothing, and should not be frowned upon." He cast a slight glance Susan's way, as if knowing that she would be the most likely to try and coax something out of her brother or sister.

"I do not understand," Caspian rasped with a frown, recovering his voice. "I have come seeking what was taken from me, only to find Aslan has another errand for me?"

"Not an errand," the curve of Abramelin's mouth twitched disapprovingly, "but something vastly more important that The Lion deemed you should learn. You will find what you seek in Aslan's good time."

"My lord," Armin spoke reverently, removing his helmet, "this place astonishes me. Where are we?"

"Do not reserve such titles of respect for me, my son. I am far too lowly a servant for them." He cast the captain a kind expression, and then gestured casually in the air about him.

"This is my home. The Hall you have just passed through is a place where time knows no such boundaries as hours, minutes, or seconds. Nor does is understand location in terms of meters, or leagues, or cardinal directions. I might say it is north of North and south of East. It is millennia old and newer than spring grass. If you were to enter it again, you would no longer find the door from which you passed into it. It simply _is_."

Armin inhaled dryly, "And your home?"

Abramelin's eyes twinkled. "It is forever attached to the Hall, but is not quite as elusive. You might say I live several leagues beneath what you call your burial mounds."

He watched their various expressions of fear and awe before the spoke again.

"Come," he said with a small clap of soft brown hands, "you are more weary than your faces betray. I have food, wine, beds. You may forget your troubles here, because such things are mine to keep."

Susan felt her body give an involuntary jolt, awakened from her reverie. Abramelin strode across the hall to the great hearth and the roasting pig. Plates and silverware suddenly appeared and clattered invitingly onto the long table. Goblets were filling themselves with a delicious-looking white wine and all sorts of breads, cheeses, and fruits were soaring from hidden cupboards and onto golden platters. She watched dumfounded until an invisible hand pushed her gently from behind, urging her forward.

As she sank into the chair that pulled itself out for her, Susan was abruptly, acutely aware of how weary she was from days of sleeping on hard ground. The cushion on the high-backed chair was softer than a bed pillow, and the aroma of the food wafting up to her nose produced hunger pains that rumbled in her belly. As she and her traveling companions settled themselves, their host trotted from the fire with the roasted meat steaming deliciously on a platter. He placed generous slices before them, encouraged them to try the wine, and then disappeared through an arched doorway so that they might dine in peace.

For a time all that could be heard in the high, quiet hall was the sound of chewing, the occasional slurp of the fruity, full-bodied wine, and the scrape of knives against plates. Eventually they sighed in turn and set down their forks, eyes moving lazily from one to another. Reepicheep was the first to speak. He had been given a special little chair set up high so that he might dine at eye level with his companions, as well as interestingly shaped flatware, made for mouse's paws, so that he would not have to dig his nose into his plate like a common rat.

"My friends," he said, "this is most peculiar a place, and I do not wish to undermine the hospitality of our host, but I will admit I am most curious as to why Aslan would have us here."

"I think we're all thinking that, Reep," said Edmund, "but from what I've learned about Aslan, he shows rather than tells." He gave a small shiver, "This place is sure spooky, though."

"I think it's lovely," said Lucy, eyes shining. "It's like when I first stepped through the wardrobe into Narnia, and saw all the snow, and the lamppost, and odd Mr. Tumnus with his umbrella and scarf."

Caspian tilted his head back, looking up into the domed, blue, star-spangled observatory in the ceiling. It revolved ever so slightly, and with a he realized that it was indeed the sky he was seeing, but as if from the inside of a glass sphere. He looked down and caught Susan's eyes.

She was staring at him with a peculiar mixture of expressions. He started, not deciphering the way her brows had pulled slightly together, eyes wide; her lips edged back in something like a grimace of pain.

For Susan had been watching the way the tendons in the king's neck stood out when he tilted his head back, how is hair fell away from his face, his eyes rolled back as he gazed above him. His body was relaxed in its comfortable chair, but his fingers clenched his fork tightly, still wary. The air in this place had reminded her of her lonely days over the summer in England, not quite the young girl, not quite the queen of a mythical land. Caspian was looking at his surroundings with the expression she had had when she herself had first set foot in Narnia: complete wonder. And Lucy had just spoken of it. Susan questioned when she had lost hers, and why she ached for it so.

But, before Caspian could move from his chair to her side, Abramelin reappeared in the hall, and the thought was wiped from his mind.

"I have prepared rooms for each of you, so that you may recover your strength. The stairway is just behind you." He disappeared through the doorway again.

They all turned to see a wide, curving well of stairs wind up from another archway. Ornate brackets held torches that lit the stairs in more of the golden, shimmering light. Each of them looked at the other for a moment, and then simultaneously rose from their seats. Lucy was the first to tap quietly up the stairwell; before she was out of sight, the others followed. At the top of the landing, a long corridor stretched on either side. The right hand side was lit warmly, and halted at a great mirror a long way down it. The left hand side was wreathed in darkness, and they could not see where it ended, nor to what it led.

There were no names on the doors, but each of them seemed to know which room was theirs. After Lucy passed into a room that was bathed in warm light and covered with bright tapestries, Susan found herself drawn to the next door. She pressed her hand down on the latch and passed into the room with hardly a thought.

As torches and the grate flickered to life, Susan took in her breath sharply. The most prominent feature of the room was the bed, which was wide enough for about five people. Around it midnight blue curtains embroidered with silver vines swept up to meet an impossibly high ceiling. Turning to her left, she saw that over the marble mantle a vast tapestry depicting a grove of dryads and a fountain had been hung. The flagstone floor was almost completely covered with a soft woven rug of white wool. A lovely ornate mirror and vanity held various items for a lady's toilette--silver-backed hairbrush, a basin and pitcher, powder, scented oils and soaps, a jewelry box, a glistening vial of perfume--all things Susan doubted she would need, but the gesture was kind, and it all reminded her forcefully of her old bedroom at Cair Paravel. She mused that if she pushed open the curtained window she might just see the cliffs and the beach lit by the big Narnian moon.

But she had little time for these thoughts, for as soon as her tired feet tread on the soft carpet she could feel her eyelids droop, and after she had changed into one of the silken night gowns laid out on the bureau, she fell into the big bed (which had wonderfully squashy down pillows and duvet) and let sleep claim her.


	5. Chapter 4 and a half

When Susan woke she had no idea how long she had slept, nor what time of day it was

When Susan woke she had no idea how long she had slept, nor what time of day it was. The light in her room in Abramelin's home had not changed, and the fire seemed to have been stoked recently, the candles replaced so that they burned bright and tall. She fell back against the pillows and stared up at the ceiling of the great curtained bed, lost in thought.

She'd had little time to herself these last days. The episode with the Naiads, the discovery of the tombs, the Hall of Memories--all disordered in a mind that liked to catalog. Susan shivered slightly at the recollection of the shadowy forest of pillars, each etched with the life story of a long departed soul. What had Abramelin meant when he said each of them would step into one of those lives, exactly?

Abandoning that thought from sheer dread, she found herself settling on Caspian, and frowned. She still recalled all too vividly the way he had cupped her in his arms as he carried her from near drowning, the way his eyes had lingered when she changed into his clothes. Susan remembered his hands at her waist when he helped her from her horse, blushed, and rolled over to bury her flaming cheeks in one of the downy pillows.

She also remembered their light banter, the arguments in the woods, their night among the statues, the stargazing tower. She recalled the feel of his lips against her hand, his even, genuine smile that made the corners of his eyes crinkle when he looked at her, his lips turning up as if what she'd said was the cleverest, most charming thing he had ever heard. Susan found her blush deepen when she thought of his lips, and kicked the covers away as she grew too warm.

This was silly. She had fancied other boys before, and had had quite a few fancy her as well. There were even a few rare occasions when the feeling had been mutual. But she had no business letting herself get worked over by someone from Narnia. What had happened to the old Susan? The queen who threw a visiting king or prince only a second glance if he was fortunate? She certainly felt like the queen she had been, as Narnia had a way of doing to you when you returned, but this was different; this felt--

She shook her head. This felt ridiculous. Smoothing her hair, Susan slid out of the cavernous bed and padded across the room to the bureau. She found a soft robe the same midnight color as her bed hangings, and slipped her arms into it over her nightgown. Striding to the door, she opened it and peered into the hallway on either side of her. No one seemed to be about but her. She stepped out of her room, shutting the door quietly, and walked slowly down the corridor, the flagstones cool against her bare feet. She decided she'd had quite enough of riding boots for a long while.

When Susan came upon the top of the stairwell, she saw that the portion of the corridor extending from the left hand side, the one that had been darkened before, was now lit. No sane person would pass the opportunity to explore, especially in the house of one such as Abramelin, thus that's exactly what Susan did.

As she walked, she noticed that this corridor was lined with far fewer doors than the hallway where her room was located. In fact, this corridor was almost like a smaller version of a train tunnel--indeed, the wall and the roof arced as one above her, their smooth curve broken only by the occasional bracket and torch. Just as she was becoming bored enough to want to turn back, the hall made an abrupt turn to the right. She rounded the corner and halted.

This room was a perfect square, the ceiling vaulted like the roof of a gothic cathedral. Along the walls were doors, and high up, on two sides, near the apex of the ceiling, were small rectangular windows through which moon and starlight shone into the otherwise unlit room. Susan stared up into the light, wondering how, if they were supposed to be leagues underground, could such a room be possible. She strode to the door nearest her on her left, suddenly overcome with inquisitiveness.

Susan tugged at the latch, but the door would not budge.

"They are locked, I have tried them all," a slightly accented voice floated from the darkness behind her, making her jump and sending her heart rate into a frenzy.

Susan spun and reached out, fingers brushing against a warm, velvet clad chest. Rough fingers caught her hand and steadied her. As her breathing calmed, she squinted in the dark to make out the hard planes of Caspian's features.

The Telmarine king was looking down into her face with an unreadable expression. The hand he had caught he had drawn closer to him, his other hand coming up to brush aside the strands of Susan's hair that had escaped their fellows and now fell around her eyes.

Susan felt herself warm at the gesture and was glad for the dark. She fumbled for words. "Can't sleep?"

"No… I have had plenty of sleep, I think. I do not understand time here. I could not tell you if I had slept hours or days."

"I have the same feeling."

The silence stretched for an immeasurable moment.

"Do you have a light?" Susan asked, feeling stupid.

"I do. I put the candle away because the dark was soothing, but I will light it for you." He left her side and crouched in the middle of the room. Susan's eyes had adjusted enough by now that she saw there were three long benches positioned around a low table, where Caspian had laid the candle. There was the brief sound of flint against a match, and then small pool of orange-gold light. Caspian sat down on one of the benches and propped his feet on the table.

Susan closed the short distance between them and, after deliberating for a moment, sat on the bench across from him, wrapping her robe tighter about her. Caspian did not look up for a few moments, his eyes following the flicker of the flame on the wick. Susan found herself tracing the lines of his features with her mind's hand. She had enjoyed drawing at school, and felt that if she had a piece of paper and a pencil nub with her, she would first draw the line of his shoulders--a long, strong stroke because his arms stretched out on either side of him, rested on the back of the bench. Then, she would follow the line of his torso and legs as it lounged; booted feet out and crossed--two short strokes there. Then, she'd draw his head bent, the hair falling forward, the bold contour of his jaw and the soft one of his brow, down his nose, then two lips pressed together…

Caspian felt her scrutiny and looked up into her eyes. Susan stopped breathing. The light reflected in their dark depths and made it appear that they burned from within.

"You seem afraid."

"Afraid, why?" Susan said, a little breathless. Caspian titled his head, considering her.

"You look at me as if I am going to strangle you."

"I am not afraid of you."

"There is no reason for you to be. Tell me what it is." He leaned forward, taking his feet off of the low table and resting his elbows on his thighs.

Susan drew a breath, it caught in her throat, "I--am--afraid."

"Of?"

Why did his eyes look so endless and inviting?

"Of going back."

"To your home in your world." He supplied, the timbre of his voice remaining unchanged.

"Yes."

He blinked, the unspoken _Why_ hanging in the air.

Susan exhaled, feeling the tension building in her chest like a coiled spring.

"There… is a war going on in my world. I am not a queen there; I'm not anyone special. People are frightened, the future is uncertain. And this place… sometimes I feel as if I am just inventing it to make all of that disappear. Ignoring the reality that I…" She buried her face in her hands, unable to continue, angry with herself for showing such vulnerability before him. Her dismay grew when she felt hot tears dripping through her fingers.

Susan sensed Caspian's warm body slide onto the bench beside her, one arm snaking around her shoulders to pull her close. She pressed her face into his chest, and felt the rumble of his voice as he spoke into her hair,

"I cannot make those things go away, Susan. But I can tell you that I am as real as the blood that beats in your heart, as these tears on your face." He tilted her chin up with his thumb and forefinger and met her eyes. "And I will not go away." They shared another immeasurable moment as the candle flickered and a few more tears escaped to make dark tracks down Susan's face. Then, so slowly that she barely registered his actions, he bent and pressed his mouth upon hers.

It was soft, his kiss, not demanding or self-conscious, like the few kisses Susan had shared with other boys. It was hesitant, if anything, still unsure, but earnest all the same. He pulled away, using his free hand to gently wipe away the remaining teardrops on her face, awaiting her response. Susan did not expect it to be so strong.

She pressed her palms against his chest and leaned into him, half expecting him to yield, but he wrapped both arms around her waist, keeping her there. Tilting her head, Susan brushed his lips with hers eagerly. He paused, face still centimeters away, then returned the caress in full, lips urging hers apart as he breathed warm air between them. Susan felt herself responding dizzyingly--her hands shook, her face grew hot, and a thudding was growing in her ears as the sensitive nerves in her lips tingled. Caspian tangled one hand in her hair and titled her head back for better access to her mouth, then pressed in ardently, claiming it with a searing heat.

He pulled away from her, panting, clearly wanting to regain some control. Susan lowered her head and rested it against his chest, her own breath coming in short gasps. Caspian held her there, the one hand still ensnared in her dark curls. They did not speak as their breathing returned to normal, and Susan found that she'd closed her eyes, so comfortable in his embrace.

The candle flickered in the dark, and silvery rays from the upper windows filtered into the darkened room. Caspian stared out, unblinking, into the dimness, hardly believing what he'd done. Susan had been warm and vulnerable in his arms, and that--vulnerability, it tugged at him. Inexplicably. As if he could shield her from her demons by his mere presence. He grimaced at the thought. Hell, he could barely protect his own people.

But, she enchanted him, too. Her logical nature, her smooth voice so often laced with restraint. The biting way she found his weaknesses and prodded them. The way her hair curled around her face or her eyes glanced to the side, or when she chewed one full red lip in thought. And that inaccessible wall--the fact that she was a queen from 1300 years ago who had little business lingering in his time and place. He tightened his arms around her. Well, he could have her for his moment. He couldn't help smiling at that thought--and here they were in a place where time's laws were nonexistent.

Susan stirred in his embrace, raising her head to look at him.

"What is it?" She murmured.

"I was wishing for something impossible." He offered a half-smile.

"What is your wish?" She leaned in and whispered the words into his ear, breath stirring the hairs at the base of his neck. He shivered.

"Stop that."

Her eyes were wide, innocent. "Why?"

"Because you are making it so difficult for what I must say next." His face was suddenly sorrowful.

Susan knitted her brows, suspicious.

"Susan--"

"Don't" She untangled herself from him, crossing her arms in front of her chest. "I think I know what you are going to say, and I am asking you not to say it."

"But Susan, you _know_ something that has kept you from me since that night out on the roof. And I have finally understood."

She drew a breath and pouted. "What if I don't care anymore?"

He granted her another lopsided smile. "It's this place. It makes things appear untroubled, clear, easy. But it is not so when we return to Narnia."

Susan looked down, the rejection stinging. She had never opened herself to someone like she had to him. She looked up, eyes glistening, lips pressed together in a determined line. "I am sorry I gave you a misguided impression of me." She slipped off the bench and fled away down the corridor.

"Susan!" Caspian called after her, rounding the corner to see her disappear into her room. He cantered to the unforgiving barrier and knocked gently against it.

"I'm sorry!"

He strained to hear through the wood, but could discern nothing.

"My son," a deep, pleasant voice came from behind him.

Caspian turned to meet the fathomless, resin colored eyes of Abramelin.

"It is time for you to enter the Hall of Memories."

The young king took a long breath, one hand lingering on the locked iron latch of Susan's door. He exhaled, then met the story-keeper's eyes. "I suppose I am ready."

Abramelin said nothing--perhaps his eyes did twinkle behind their solemnity--then turned without a sound on one bare heel and led Caspian down the corridor.

A/N: This is chapter 4 ½ because I had a flash of inspiration after posting the last chapter and decided it was ready to put up early, though it's not quite long enough to be a full chappy in my eyes. Hope you enjoyed!


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